


In Which There Is A Threesome

by GertieCraign, omgbubblesomg



Series: 31 fics in 31 days [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: #relatable, Angel Powers, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Castiel's Grace, Clothes Ripping, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Horny Castiel, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Manhandling, Marking, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Tied-Up Castiel, Top Dean, Top Sam, Yes the coat gets shredded, enhanced Dean, enhanced Sam, that feel when sex makes you lose track of your grace, the ol reach around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign, https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: Castiel can't get drunk from alcohol. Sam and Dean devise a way to get him love-drunk instead.





	1. Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for and with the amazing gertiecraign, who doesn’t deserve bad things ever. Hope this puts a smile on your dial you precious sunflower.
> 
> Gertie: “Manhandle Cas. Use the tie, somehow. Ruin the coat.”  
> Your wish is, as always, my command.
> 
> Appropriate af for my fiftieth supernatural fic.  
> Here’s to another fifty with you crazy peeps.
> 
> Kinktober Day 20: Pet play | feet | **threesome**

Castiel stroked a hand through Sam’s hair, admiring the soft strands and the relaxed drunken smile on Sam’s face as he snored gently against Castiel’s thigh. He would be lying if he said he understood the cultural importance of the Fourth of July, but pretending to enjoy fireworks was a small price to pay if this was how the night ended; Dean sprawled across the kitchen table wearing only a pink-frilled apron, and Sam hiccuping in his lap, smelling like whiskey and laughter. 

Castiel was unable to get drunk, and had therefore been disqualified from participating in the game of revelry that Dean had devised, but he had very much enjoyed it as a spectator. Dares had escalated with every shot, items of clothing discarded one by one until someone—Castiel wasn't sure who—was declared the winner, and Dean ended up in the apron. 

Sam mumbled something in his sleep and drooled a little, darkening Castiel’s crotch. Castiel cautiously tried to move Sam’s head to safer territory, lower down his thigh, lest his vessel’s arousal wake him. Sam blinked blearily at him and made grabby movements, resisting, until Castiel finally let him return to his former position, mouthing against Castiel through the suit trousers. 

Humans were so frustratingly erratic. Dean was almost naked and Sam was getting him wet _through_ his clothes and Castiel’s vessel was, naturally, responding to the visual and tactile cues, but neither Sam nor Dean appeared to be in any shape to take care of what they had started. Castiel was unsure if the appropriate response was to ignore his erection, or deal with it quietly. He settled for confused arousal and hoped the situation would sort itself out in due course. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Gabriel must be drunk, too. He only ever texted Castiel when he was drunk.

 _-Happy 4 Jul, bra_ __  
_-Bro*_ __  
-Ha!  
-{emoji of two clam shells}  
_-Happy 4th, lil bro!_

Castiel checked the clock and rolled his eyes. It was 3.07am. “You're late,” he replied.

_-NOT! It’s_ __  
_-Oh_ _  
_ _-Happy 5th, lil bro!_

Castiel sighed wearily. He’d assumed the task of humoring inebriated loved ones had ended for the evening. Apparently not.

_-How u celebrating?_

Castiel took a photo of his lap, where Sam was mumbling something about guinea pigs next to the obvious bulge of his erection.

“Having fun,” he sent, with all the sarcasm he could imply via text. 

 _-Thas ma boiiiii  
_ -{eggplant and fist emojis}

Sam nosed at him unconsciously and Castiel thought some decidedly un-angelic thoughts.

_-Wheres the othr 1?_

Castiel aimed the phone’s camera over his shoulder, and clicked a photo of Dean, who’s penis and testicles were only partially covered by the apron. 

_-OH BABY_

It occurred to Castiel that sending indecorous photos to Gabriel could possibly develop unplanned results.

“Don't embarrass them with these photographs.”

-{kissing face emoji}  
- _wudnt dream of it_

 

\------------

 

Castiel shouldn’t have been surprised when it took Gabriel less than forty-eight hours to renege his promise, pasting copies of the photographs all over the bunker’s walls and inside cupboards so it was impossible to so much as pour a bowl of cereal without getting a faceful of Dean’s frill-covered cock. Castiel quite liked the additions, but Sam and Dean were less excited. When they rounded on him, he could only shrug. “I’m not the one with a low inebriation tolerance,” he pointed out.

He knew he had a point, but the way the brothers eyed each other was suspiciously calculating, and Castiel wasn’t at all sure what to make of that. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: most lizards have two frilly penises.  
> Someone talk to me about iguanas.


	2. Castiel

The bunker was unusually quiet. Castiel was used to the sounds of Dean’s radio, or Sam tapping away on a keyboard, but today there were no tell-tale hints of habitation. Curious.

“Dean?” he called. “Sam?”

“In here!” came Sam’s voice from the library. Castiel tucked his head around the door but there was no one at the central table. He trotted further in. “Sam?” He turned a corner, looking about. “Sam? I think I’ve found— _oof_ ”

Technically he didn’t require oxygen, but having his lungs forcibly emptied by someone knocking him into a bookshelf wasn't exactly comfortable, either.

“Sam, I—”

“That’s enough talking,” Sam growled, shoving Castiel down against the nearest table with one hand on the back of his neck, and the other deftly flipping up the back of his coat. Castiel went easily. He didn’t understand Sam’s actions but trusted that their motive would soon become apparent. 

“Sam,” he tried, then lost his breath again as Sam’s hand descended to slap, open-palmed, against the seat of his pants.

“I said no more talking, Cas.” Castiel blinked at the tabletop, trying to organise his thoughts. The pain sliced through him momentarily and his grace lagged behind as he gripped the edge and tried to force a breath back into his lungs. 

Sam slapped him twice more, as if he was making sure his message had gotten across. Then he reached around to Castiel’s belt, almost ripping it open one-handed while he kept Castiel’s head down with the other. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. His grace was playing catch-up, disoriented. He’d never been spanked before, had only ever seen the pizza delivery man on television do it, and he wasn’t sure of the appropriate reaction, but _this_ was something he understood. Sam’s hand pulling the belt clear of his pants. 

This was an unusual prelude to sexual intercourse, but at least Castiel knew the general direction of Sam’s actions, now. He deftly undid his tie and reached up to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, intending to undress, but Sam yanked his trousers down below his ass and apparently that was enough clothing removal because Castiel had barely started on the first button before he felt Sam’s restraining hand leave the back of his neck, and the soft thud of knees as he hit the floor behind Castiel.

“Sam? Are you—"

Oh. Oh _my._

Sam didn’t even give him a warning. One second he was holding Castiel down against the library table and the next he was on his knees, spreading Cas open with one hand. Hot breath on the most intimate part of him. His lips descended to kiss at Castiel’s puckered entrance, and between one blink and the next he replaced his lips with his tongue and Castiel hadn’t even had time to open a single button on his shirt. He gave up completely with the first wet-rough swipe.

The lightbulb flickered dangerously as Castiel tried to organise his thoughts. This was all so fast. What was he—? Wasn’t there a—?

“S-S-Sa—?”

Sam’s only response was to lap at him before poking a tongue through his defences, and Castiel had been trying to follow a train of thought—something about Sam ambushing him in the library, of all places—but his brain skittered off, and he wasn’t in any state to retrieve it. Not with Sam’s tongue pushing further in. Relentless.

His grace was scattered, still reeling from Sam’s hand, and now doubly affected by his tongue. Castiel tried to muster some power. Was the purpose of this exercise simply to provide lubrication for penetration? Usually he could prepare himself with his grace, to maximise sexual efficiency, but he was having trouble remembering why he had ever bothered to do so, if the alternative was so pleasurable. 

The tip of Sam’s tongue was inside him. Wriggling. Wet. Pulling out to gather more saliva to ease back in and Castiel was never going to use his grace to prepare himself ever again. His vessel was absolutely melting, sending contradictory signals to limbs that refused to cooperate. It was lucky the table was supporting the top half of his body, because his legs didn’t seem capable of fulfilling their job description at the moment.

One of Sam’s fingers probed gently at the muscle where his tongue was buried, and Castiel was vaguely aware that he would need to relax to take it in but he needn't have bothered. Sam's clever tongue and the wet push of him were enough. The slender digit slid in easily, reaching further than Sam’s mouth, pressing down on his inner walls, pursuing a hidden spot until Castiel arched at the touch, his mind and grace reeling. 

“Sam!” he cried. “Again! Again!” He was speaking in Enochian but he didn’t need to translate; Sam’s finger found the same spot, almost the root of his cock, rubbing until the library was a blur of stars and flashing colours. 

“You need to remove your finger before I achieve ejaculation, so we can engage in penetrative intercourse,” he said. Sort of. (What he actually said was Sam’s name again. In three different octaves. But the message was the same.)

Sam didn't seem to care. His other hand came round to fumble at Castiel’s testicles, getting the right angle to grip him gently. A quick squeeze, a gentle tug, and Castiel thought _he_ was the master of multitasking but somehow Sam was doing it all. Tongue and finger working him open and perfect pressure on his balls. Castiel wasn’t going to last. 

“I’m—" he tried, but that’s as far as he got before Sam did something with his tongue—a soft swift swivel that should have been anatomically impossible—and Castiel felt his vessel tighten with pleasure. He cried out with it, clamping down on Sam’s fingers, and his cock jerked its release onto the table beneath his belly. 

He drifted.

In heaven, Castiel wasn’t usually attached to a body, and this felt something like that. He was floating somewhere above the library. 

He was only very distantly aware that Sam was moving behind him. Rearranging. He coughed and forced his grace back into some semblance of order, dragging his mind back down to its usual home inside his head. 

“My apologies,” he managed. “I orgasmed far too quickly.”

He felt Sam’s smile on the inside of his thigh, a quick nip of teeth, and then Sam was standing, his hips pressing Castiel back into the come-smeared table, from which Castiel had been attempting to lever away from. 

“Kinda the point,” he said, voice like dripping honey, and Castiel heard his zipper lowering. Usually Sam would kiss him after an orgasm, and they would snuggle asleep, but Castiel could feel that Sam wasn’t pulling away. In fact, he was pressing closer.  

“Sam?” he asked, confused. He tried to turn his head but Sam’s hand was back, pushing against his neck to keep him still as he slid his cock through the crease of Castiel’s ass. “Wha—?”

Sam shushed him, then angled against the wet mess of his hole.

Castiel gasped as Sam slid into him. There was no resistance. His body was lax with pleasure and spit-slick from Sam’s tongue and Sam didn't seem at all inclined to allow Castiel to gather his bearings. He pushed forward, hips moving in one long roll, and Castiel felt himself responding, arching up into the touch as best as he could. His grace was struggling to help. To ease the way. It wasn’t necessary, really. Sam had been too thorough. Which was lucky, because no sooner had he bottomed out than he was pulling away and slamming back in. 

Castiel had spent a lot of time in the bed of either Sam or Dean (or both) but neither of them had ever held him like this; immobile and panting, barely recovered from his earlier orgasm. Still dressed. 

Castiel couldn't help the shiver that raced up his spine, and Sam traced the same path with quick fingers, bumping over each vertebra, rucking his shirt up as he went, and scratching through the hair at the nape of Castiel’s neck. 

Castiel braced himself with both hands flat against the table. He had finally found some control over his limbs again. He used it to press back into Sam, meeting each thrust. Sam was really going hard. Far faster than Castiel was used to. Far fiercer than he had thought Sam was capable of.

Castiel blamed his earlier orgasm on his lagging reaction to Sam’s movements. But now he had determined the rhythm and could participate fully. Sam squeezed his neck where he was holding Castiel down. 

“Still with me, huh?” he gasped. 

“Of course,” Castiel replied, confused. “My apologies for the delay. I will attempt to provide adequate stimulation henceforth.”

Sam chuckled darkly. “Oh,” he said, “I’m counting on it.” Then he changed the angle and he was hitting that same spot in Castiel again. It was a specific kind of pleasure, so soon after an orgasm, and Castiel gasped with it. Lightning. He didn’t know what had come over Sam but he liked it. A lot. 

Sam let go of his neck to put both hands on his hips, gripping tight and pulling Castiel into his thrusts. Castiel’s grace worked sluggishly to heal the bruises as they formed beneath Sam’s fingertips. His cock thickened eagerly, reacting to the pressure inside him and the wet slide of his own release on the table. 

His second orgasm was less of a surprise. He felt it building for long minutes, and tried to hold it off. He didn’t want to leave Sam behind, but his pleasure was spurred on by Sam’s relentless thrusts and the gripping heat of his fingers. “Sam!” he cried as he approached that peak. He wanted Sam there with him. 

“Yeah, baby,” Sam panted. He had been going hard. He would be so tired. They could collapse together on the table before moving to the bedroom. Castiel groaned at the thought and Sam copied the noise, pistoning fiercely. “Come on, Cas. Give it up. Let it go.”

Castiel obeyed, and Sam shoved in as far as he could go, dick twitching deep inside as they came together. 

Castiel gasped into the wooden tabletop, expecting Sam to collapse beside him. Instead, he felt Sam’s hand card through his hair, gripping tight and forcing his head around to meet Sam’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Castiel hummed into it, still pleasantly shivering as Sam’s cock slipped wetly out of him. 

“I love you,” Sam whispered into his lips. “You know that, right?”

Castiel forced his eyes to uncross. His grace was having greater difficulty recovering this time. But he managed a smile. “Of course,” he murmured, only slightly slurred. “And I you.”

Sam didn’t give him time to elaborate, just leaned in to claim his mouth once more before releasing him against the table and then, inexplicably, walking out. 

“Sam?”

No reply. 

Castiel struggled with his pants, trying to pull them up over his ass with fingers that were still trembling. 

“Sam?” he called again. 

“Heya, Cas.”

It was Dean. Standing at the library door, wearing nothing but a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the antechinus (small Aussie mammal) will literally fuck itself to death. Someone talk to me about antechinus.


	3. Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end notes for triggery spoilers

Dean stalked forward, unabashedly naked, and Castiel shouldn’t have bothered to do up his buckle because Dean simply pulled it free again, yanking it sharply through the belt loops and throwing it aside. He shoved Castiel backwards until he tripped over his now loose trousers, stumbling into a bookshelf. Dean’s erection bobbed and Castiel swallowed dry. He still hadn’t sufficiently recovered from his encounter with Sam, though his grace was valiantly sending blood south at the display of naked power.

“Dean,” he cautioned, voice rough even to his own ears, “I am not at peak physical condition. I do not wish to sexually disappoint you. Perhaps I can orally stimulate you while my grace recuperates?”

Dean crowded him up against the bookshelf, knocking a few of the smaller tomes to the floor. His erection was poking wet pressure into Castiel’s shirt. “You wanna suck me off, huh?” His voice was dark and he was still smirking and Castiel wanted that smirk pressed against his own lips. He could feel Dean’s hardness against his belly.

“Fellatio would be the most advisable action,” he agreed.

Dean growled. “Hate to disappoint,” he said, “but you ain’t calling the shots tonight.” His thumb traced the swell of Castiel’s lower lip. “Though maybe I’ll take you up on that offer later. If you’re good.”

Castiel couldn’t help the way his tongue licked out, tasting the soap-sweat skin of Dean’s thumb. He was good. He was always good. He always _wanted_ to be good. He sucked Dean’s thumb into his mouth and let his teeth rest just below the first joint, his tongue pressed into the callus-rough pad. Dean’s eyes darkened.

“You tease,” he growled. He pulled his hand free and reached up to the back of Castiel’s collar, where Sam’s hand had been only minutes ago. He cradled Castiel’s head in both hands and Castiel leaned into the touch, expecting to be drawn forward into a kiss, but Dean wasn't aiming to be gentle. He reached further down and the muscles in his arms corded. With a powerful jerk he ripped through the collar of the trench coat. Castiel squawked but Dean wasn’t done. He readjusted his grip and kept yanking, ignoring Castiel’s attempts to ward him off until the coat was split completely in two, right down the back, leaving it to hang off Castiel’s arms like sad imitations of wings.

Castiel glared at Dean but his cock gave an interested twitch. The coat should not have been so easy to rip. He found himself eyeing the muscles of Dean’s arms, licking his lips unconsciously. Dean followed the path of his tongue.

“See something you like, angel?”

“I would have removed the garment if you had asked, Dean. Destroying clothing is an unnecessary use of your strength.”

“I disagree,” Dean smirked, and then he grabbed the front of Castiel’s shirt to haul him forward. Castiel heard fabric ripping _(again!)_ but his addled mind couldn’t keep track of more than one thing at a time and it was currently more interested in Dean’s lips, pressed against his own. A tongue snaking into his mouth. 

Castiel tried to kiss back—he knew how Dean liked it—but he wasn’t being given any opportunity. Dean was too much. Too invasive. His tongue pressed up to the roof of Castiel's mouth, dragging forward to pull him closer by the back of his teeth. Castiel couldn’t correctly respond. He was too far on the back foot. 

“Dean,” he garbled. He was clinging to Dean’s shoulders, and the tattered halves of his coat flapped uselessly on either side of him as Dean plundered his mouth. 

Generally, Castiel had no need for oxygen, but when they broke apart he was gasping. 

Dean didn’t waste any more time. He spun Castiel around and pushed him back down onto the sticky table. Castiel’s bare chest rubbed into the mess of sweat and semen, and dazedly he wondered where his shirt had gone. He would have taken a moment to assess its tattered remnants on the floor, but he was distracted by Dean's hands on his waist, shoving his trousers down and yanking his shoes off with it, leaving him in nothing but the tatters of his coat.

Castiel got his hands beneath him, intending to push up and away, but Dean settled over him like a huge warm weight and he stayed put. He couldn’t help his contented sigh as Dean’s arms came to wrap around him, holding him firm against the table. He loved being held. Relished the feel of arms around him. He snuggled down and almost didn’t notice the hot hard feel of something nestling against the small of his back, until it moved to slip-slide lower. Down the crack of his ass. 

Castiel’s grace had valiantly been trying to heal his loose and puffy hole, but he had been too preoccupied to focus his full attention on the task, so the feel of Dean's erection against him sent frissons of overstimulated pleasure to the very tips of his toes. He was still wet. He could feel Sam’s come in him. On him. The head of Dean’s dick swiped through it and Castiel let out a surprised gasp. 

He wanted it. He wanted _Dean._ But he was in no state to reciprocate the pleasure adequately. 

“Wait,” he begged. “Dean, I can’t—"

Dean startled him by biting just below his ear. “Shh,” he whispered, lips soothing the marked skin. “I got this. Let me take care of you.”

Dean’s arms seemed stronger than usual, keeping Castiel down against the table with ease. Castiel tried again to argue but he was quickly silenced by the warmth of Dean against his hole once more. The press of him. He gasped and suddenly couldn’t remember why he wanted to wait. 

The stretch was nothing new. A perfect fullness that lit him up from within simply by its familiarity. The smooth-hot ache as Dean slid forward. Someone said Dean’s name. Twice. His tongue tripped the easy syllable again. Dean. _Dean._

Dean had always been loud in bed, and now was no different. As Castiel struggled to formulate more than one word at a time, Dean pressed whole sentences into the backs of his shoulders. 

“Yeah angel, I’ve got you. Feel that? So good for me. Still wet from my baby brother but fuck, Cas. You’re still so tight. How do you do that, baby?  Reckon we can get you loose, angel? Can you do that for me?” Castiel groaned and Dean bit at the same spot below his ear, making him arch. “Like that, angel? You know I like making you feel good.” Dean’s tongue made senseless patterns on his neck, and he bit again. Again. Castiel felt his grace sluggishly healing the bruises, and Dean tsked. “Wanna see my marks on you, Cas. You’ll look so good.”

“W-wha—?” Castiel slurred into the tabletop as Dean pulled gently away, easing himself out only to ease back in. So slow that Castiel could feel each inch as he widened around it. Sparks of pleasure in every teasing second. “ _Dean._ ”

“How you going, angel? You feeling tired yet?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Dean bit into his neck again, sucking urgently at Castiel’s skin before pulling away to watch as Castiel’s grace stuttered forward. Dean sighed. “You’re still healing my marks, baby.” He straightened up fully, keeping his hands on Castiel’s hips to stop him standing up as well. Kicking his feet further apart. Easing out gently. Gently. So at odds with the words spilling from his lips. “Oh, angel I want you just _covered_ in my bruises. Sam’s as well. His teeth make such pretty patterns, Cas. You’ll look so good.”

“ _Please_ ,” was all Castiel managed to get out, before Dean was squeezing his hips, perfect pressure, and then slamming forward. The air left Castiel’s lungs in a moan. There was nothing slow or gentle left, and he could barely keep a grip on the edge of the table as Dean found a rhythm that was closer to a jackhammer than a human should have been capable of achieving. Castiel _vibrated_ with it, and when Dean leaned down the _hardfast_ thrusts found his prostate and if Castiel had any air left he would have shouted. As it was he could only hold on and feel. Too much. Too much. His grace balled up inside him and when Dean shoved down hard his dick slid against the table and he free fell into his third orgasm for the night, clenching hard around Dean who stuttered obscenities as he fucked his way through his own climax.

Castiel’s grace fizzled out in all directions, and he floated carefree on the wave of his pleasure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery trigger warnings: In this chapter, and the next, Cas asks Sam and Dean to slow down and stop. S & D know Cas is only asking in order to give himself more time to recuperate—and they therefore ignore his request and keep going.
> 
> Gentle reminder to stop if your partner says stop! Even if they’re a celestial being made of concordant wavelengths or w/e.


	4. Castiel

Castiel’s thoughts moved in much the same way that honey moves. Slow. Goopy. He blinked and was surprised to see that there was a roof above him. He was lying on his back.

He was even more surprised to feel that there was someone inside him. _In_ side him. And they weren’t going slow or easy. They were thrusting into him hard. Fast. Castiel groaned as he helplessly responded, his body tightening around the pleasure. The roof swam above him.

“Back with me, Cas?”

“S-Sam?”

“Thought we’d lost you for a moment there, gorgeous. Guess we’ll have to try harder.”

Castiel licked his lips. Time wasn't making much sense at the moment but regardless of how addled he felt he was fairly certain that Sam shouldn’t be capable of an erection right now, not so soon after the last orgasm. Sam was human. He couldn’t... He shouldn’t be able to... 

Something didn’t add up, but Sam’s hands slid forward to pinch at his nipples and he didn’t have the capacity to deal with so many competing sensations and he lost his train of thought. He pressed up into Sam’s fingers, begging for more. His body was like an elastic band, pulled too tight in too many directions, ready to snap. Sam rolled a flushed nipple between two fingers, pinching delicately, and he cried out with it even as his grace struggled to ease the pleasure pain. His body was made for tolerance but he needed... he needed time. 

“S-Sam! I can’t!”

“Easy, Cas. I'll take care of you.”

One hand came to wrap around Castiel’s cock, which valiantly hardened.

“W-why are y-you—?” He couldn’t get the whole question out, but Sam understood.

“We thought it was time for you to try inebriation,” he said wickedly, twisting a nipple with one hand and stroking Castiel’s cock with the other

 _What do you mean,_ Castiel tried to say, but he couldn’t get the words out between Sam’s pistoning hips, and the steady pinch-pull of his fingers.

He floated away again.

When he came to, Sam had left, and there was a fresh smear of semen on his belly. He was fairly sure that it was his own.

“Having fun?” Came a voice from nearby. Dean was smirking at him as he walked over.

Castiel tried to formulate a sentence, but all that came out was a weak sort of groan. He flopped his hand uselessly in Dean’s direction.

“Good boy.”

Castiel’s tie was still on the table where he had dropped it earlier, and Dean picked it up, pulling the silky length of it through his hands. He deftly wrapped it around Castiel’s wrists, tugging firmly as Castiel blinked up at him. The trailing end of the tie drooped away along the table. Inexplicably, it reminded Castiel of a sea creature. Blue and silky. His brain was making weird associations, possibly due to the afterglow of four consecutive orgasms, and his still-reeling grace.

“Barnacles have the longest penises of any animal,” he murmured, only half paying attention.

Dean gave him a bemused smile. “Guess that means we’re close, huh? You feeling drunk yet, angel?” He tugged at the end of the tie, forcing Castiel to follow it upright, which didn’t feel like sitting up so much as it felt like the room simply tilting around him until it reconfigured vertically.

“Bats engage in coitus while upside down,” he told Dean groggily, while the walls decided which way they were going to stand.

“Bats, huh?”

He nodded blearily. Dean tugged on the tie again, and Castiel dutifully followed as Dean tied the trailing end to a nearby wall socket, hiking Castiel’s hands up above his head. His legs didn’t really feel like legs at the moment, but they held his weight adequately, and it was even easier to balance when Dean kicked his feet apart, giving him a better centre of gravity.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into the wall, where his nose was currently squished.

Dean chuckled, and his whole body came to rest against Castiel’s back. It was warm and hard and comforting, having him so near. Their skin felt delicious everywhere they touched.

And then Dean shifted, and his cock slid through the mess between Castiel’s cheeks.

“Wait,” he tried to warn. Why were they insisting on sex when he could barely return their advances? It wasn’t fair for him to receive all the pleasure without being able to give any in return.

Dean didn’t wait. He lined himself up and Castiel could feel how wet he was, how much semen and spit was inside him. Dean hardly had to press at all before he was sliding up into him.

Castiel went onto his toes as Dean straightened up. His knees shook. He couldn’t concentrate. He was supposed to be an equal participant but he couldn’t even form Dean’s name. His body wasn’t capable of reciprocation and all he could do was whimper, and take it.

“ _Please,_ ” he begged again. He had never been used like this before. His pleasure brought up, and up, and up, over and over again. He had never orgasmed so many times in his life. He wanted to respond in kind but he also never wanted this to end.

Dean’s mouth descended to his neck again, and merged into Sam’s hands on his waist, and back again. Time going soggy and meaningless as the two brothers worked him, held him, fucked him, until all he could feel was the push-pull pleasure of it, ebbing and flowing and crashing over his head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want another fun barnacle fact? You can tell their gender by licking them. Want another fun barnacle fact? If they can’t find another barnacle to bang, they just reach their gigantic shlong back around and fuck themselves instead. Someone talk to me about barnacles.  
> Also someone ask me about bat sex.  
> In fact lets just forget about the last chapter and stay here talking about animal sex


	5. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw art at the end of the chapter  
> (don't scroll if you're at work)

“Hey, Cas,” Dean called gently, patting his cheek. “Gonna tell me anything else about the barnacles, angel?”

Cas’s face turned towards him, but his eyes were pointed in different directions, and sex facts seemed a far sight above him. His lips moved erratically. According to Sam, he was mumbling their week’s shopping list. Backwards. In Ancient Sumerian.

“I think it worked,” Sam whispered. They had set out to get Cas drunk, after all, and this… this looked a lot like a drunk angel.

Dean poked him with his toe, but Cas didn’t seem to notice. “What do we do with him now?”

“I can think of a few things,” Sam deadpanned. When Dean looked over he was sporting a huge stiffy. Again. Gabe had given them some kind of angel-juice to make them stronger than Cas, and to keep them going long after they should have been drained. And the effects were apparently still raging. In return, all they had to do was provide a photo of love-drunk Cas. A request they had only been too happy to oblige. Cas’s legs didn’t work properly after the sixth orgasm, so they had set him up on the ground, with shreds of his clothing scattered around him and his hands still up above his head, secured to a low-level reading lamp by the blue tie. He was covered in their hickies, and it made for a pretty sexy shot, if Dean did say so himself. Even if Cas couldn’t quite focus on the camera.

And the best part? Cas was _still_ getting hard. As if sending blood to his dick was the one thing his grace was actually still capable of. Cas had long since abandoned healing their bruises, and cleaning himself up, but a hand on his cock was all it took to have him arching again.

Sam stepped in between Cas’s legs and gently kicked them wider apart. He nudged his cock against Cas’s mumbling lips. “Come on, Cas. Open up for me.” Cas obliged on autopilot, jaw slackening easily so Sam could push inside, lazily thrusting into Cas’s lax mouth. Despite coming a half dozen times in the last few hours, Dean felt his own cock stir. Watching his brother get a sloppy blowjob should not have been as hot as it was, but God, the sight of Cas loose and placid on the ground, so unlike his usual angely uptightness… it was something else. He started stroking himself, in time with the gentle rhythm Sam set. Sam’s bare foot nudged Cas’s limp cock and of course that was enough stimulation for Cas to start moaning around Sam, spit leaking out to cover Sam’s balls as he hardened up, too, somehow working Sam’s cock as he did.

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean. “You want in?”

“You offerin’?”

Sam’s gaze heated up, and somehow Dean had _just now_ realised that Gabe’s angel-juice would let him fuck Sam, too, and keep them both going long enough for Sam to fuck him back. He bit his lip, and Sam must have seen some of his thoughts in his face because he smirked.

“Cas boring you already, huh?”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Maybe later,” Sam winked. Dean rolled his eyes. For now, he would make use of the horny, docile angel they had spent so long relaxing.

He sat on the floor next to Cas, right under the lamp, so they both had their backs against the wall. Sam pulled out long enough for Dean to pick Cas up bodily—he reminded himself to thank Gabe for the angel-juice—and slotted him back down over his lap, easily slipping inside his loose, wet, hole.

“Hey, angel,” Dean crooned, fitting his chin over Cas’s shoulder. “Miss me?”

Cas made a choked-off noise which might have been Dean’s name, followed by the word _please._ He hadn’t been capable of much more than that for a long while.

“Yeah, sweet thing, it’s me.” He nipped at Cas’s neck. “You’re doing so good, baby.” He dug his teeth into the same spot, sucking hard. Cas squeezed fractionally around his cock, and whimpered Dean’s name again. The bruises didn't fade when Dean leaned back, so he made another, and another, peppering the back of Cas's shoulders and neck.

Sam rubbed the head of his cock over Cas’s mouth, and Dean got a close-up view of Cas’s overworked tongue licking out across the leaking tip. Sam moaned at the same time as Dean whispered filthy encouragement into Cas’s ear. “That’s it, angel. Take it. So good for us.” He slithered both hands around Cas’s waist and wrapped them loosely around Cas’s cock. He slid his left hand in a fist from root to tip, then followed the same movement with his right hand, repeating it to keep a wave of sensation rolling upward. He made sure his fist was loose enough that Cas wouldn’t come too quickly. The gentle squeezes of his body as Dean touched him were electrifying, and Dean didn’t want it over too soon.

Sam fed his cock back into Cas’s open mouth, and soon they had a steady rhythm. Sam’s thrusts kept Cas rocking gently, and Dean’s hands worked him up to yet another orgasm. And with Sam’s cock so close, it wasn’t even that uncomfortable to stick his tongue out and lick at the place where Cas’s lips stretched around him.

Sam shouted in surprise, and grabbed at Cas’s hair with one hand, and the back of Dean’s head with the other, holding them both in place and swearing as he emptied himself into Cas’s mouth. When he slipped free, soft at last, Dean turned Cas’s head to the side, and kissed the taste from his lips, craning over his shoulder to reach. Cas feebly returned the kiss, panting into Dean’s mouth, and Dean’s hips moved instinctively, grinding upwards even from his position on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so loose, angel.” He swivelled his hips again and Cas barely clenched around him. “You could fit another whole person in here, Cas.”

“Oh fuck,” Sam wheezed, and when Dean looked over he was hard. Again. Huh.

“You kinky devil,” Dean teased. “You wanna be in here, too?”

“Holy shit, Dean. Is that even possible?”

Dean hooked his chin back over Cas’s shoulder. “What about it, angel? Reckon you can take us both?” He sped his hands up, and Cas shuddered through another orgasm, barely even squeezing around where Dean was buried deep. Dean pressed Cas’s cock against his belly so stripes of come shot up his chest and dribbled down his stomach.

“Saaaaam!” Cas cried, hands twisting uselessly above them. Dean kept moving so Cas barely had time to soften, getting full and ready again frighteningly quick. He groaned and sucked another bruise into Cas’s shoulder.

“Yeah angel, we’ll take care of you.”

Sam stepped forward eagerly, going to his knees between Cas and Dean’s parted legs. He mashed his mouth against Cas’s as though he couldn’t help himself, groaning into him even as Cas absolutely failed to reciprocate with anything other than a moan of pleasure. Sam released him only to claim Dean’s mouth next, surging in for a bruising kiss that promised _more._

Cas whined, shivering deliciously between them until they broke apart. “You feeling left out?” Sam kissed him again.

“How can you feel left out when I’ve got my cock in your ass,” Dean teased. Cas just whined again.

They reconfigured clumsily. Sam pulled Cas up at Dean’s direction, and helped to turn him around to straddle Dean’s thighs. Dean wriggled forward until Sam could lower Cas back onto him. Cas, for his part, couldn’t do anything to help or hinder. He was still boneless and compliant with his arms restrained above them. The tie kept him angled forward slightly, so he was leaning against Dean’s chest, which meant Dean could feel every delightful twitch as he filled him back up. Cas’s cock dribbled between them, and Dean had to tell himself sternly to not simply grab Cas’s hips and go to town. This wasn’t going to work unless he could keep still long enough for Sam to join the party, too.

Cas couldn’t form sentences anymore, and Sam seemed well on the way to a similar condition, so Dean filled the silence for all of them. He whispered the dirtiest shit he could think of into Cas’s ear, telling him how good it was going to be, how fucking tight, how full he would be with two cocks inside him. Now that they were face to face Dean could fully appreciate the glazed expression brought on by hours of solid pleasure. Cas looked like he was stuck somewhere in a permanent state of astonishment, as though he were surprised by his own body.

Sam kneeled, looking hungry and dazed and almost as shocked as Cas, and Dean hauled Cas as close as possible to make room. Cas was sitting on Dean’s lap, with his legs folded beneath him so his feet were bracketing Dean’s thighs. When Dean leaned further back, Cas had no choice but to follow him down, exposing the puffy loose hole where Dean was buried.

“Oh my god,” Sam was babbling. “Oh my god, oh my god, are we really gonna—? Will it even—?”

Dean ran soothing hands down Cas’s sides and beckoned his brother closer. “Easy,” he hummed. “Just go easy. Cas can take it, can’t you angel?”

Cas buried his face in Dean’s shoulder and nodded, and Dean could feel his cock leaking and hard in between them, sandwiched by their stomachs. He ran his fingertips down Cas’s back until he reached the place where they were joined. He pressed an experimental finger against his cock and pushed up until it popped into Cas’s hole. Sam made a guttural moan, so loud it almost drowned out Cas’s own, weaker sound.

Dean was at a weird angle to try anything too gymnastic. He wiggled the tip of his finger experimentally, then grabbed Sam with his other hand and guided him forward. “That’s it,” he crooned, “right there, right in here, Sammy, it feels so good. Cas is being so good. Aren’t you, angel? Gonna take me’n my brother so well.”

“Cas,” Sam whimpered. “Cas, oh my god.”

Dean pulled his finger out slightly, stretching Cas just a little bit more. Sam didn’t seem capable of figuring out the logistics himself, so Dean guided him forward blindly, until he could feel his brother’s cock nudging against the base of his own. Being skin-to-skin was nothing new for any of them, but somehow this was different. With Cas in between them, giving them a way to feel pleasure all at the same time.

Sam was trembling. The honest-to-god shakes wracking him like this was almost too much to handle. Dean got a hand on his shoulder and when Sam looked up at him he winked. “That’s it, Sammy,” he said, slow and gentle. “Go easy. It’s worth it.”

Sam licked his lips, and looked back down, and Dean kissed Cas, hard, as the pressure against his cock increased. He slipped his finger out and Sam replaced it, pressing harder and harder until Cas’s body gave way and he was inside.

Sam bit down on the back of Cas’s shoulder, muffling his shout, and Dean felt warmth gush up around the length of his cock as Sam came . Dean grinned into Cas’s mouth, and leaned back to smirk at his brother. “Told you it was good, Sammy.”

Sam only groaned. He was barely even inside. Just the head of his dick. But the fullness of it was stopping his come from spilling free and Dean wished he had thought to set up a video camera or something because he suddenly wanted nothing more than to see what Sam could see. The place where both of them were buried so full and tight that their come wasn't even able to leak out.

He said as much to Sam, and wasn’t surprised at all to feel Sam hardening up again, superhumanly fast, already making aborted little thrusts into Cas, accompanying each one with a low little pant, like the air was getting punched out of him each time.

“Easy,” Dean reminded him again, and then let him sort out the rest. There was so much come, and Cas was already so loose. Sam would figure it out. Dean left him to it, and tried to distract himself from the incrementally increasing pressure on his cock by focusing on Cas, licking at his lax and panting lips, pecking kisses against his eyelids when they flickered shut. Reaching a hand up to twist a nipple gently, then firmer, until Cas cried out and tensed.

“Dean, oh fuck, you’re making it harder,”

“Kinda the point,” Dean said wickedly, and then instantly regretted it when Sam made a final thrust which shoved the underside of their cocks together. Cas was squeezed tight around them and Sam finally, finally bottomed out, so their cocks were lined up perfectly inside.

Dean’s eyes almost rolled back into his skull when Sam made another movement, just a tiny shift of his hips that had their cocks sliding against each other.

“Oh Jesus Christ, Sammy, your dick feels so good. Do that again! Just like— _ah! Yes!_ ” He gave up on Cas’s nipples in favour of clinging to his shoulders. Every time Sam pulled back a little bit of come dripped out onto Dean’s balls, and every time he thrust in the come still inside squelched obscenely between their cocks. Dean could hardly move at all, from his position on the floor, and Sam was setting the pace. Tiny little thrusts in and out that Dean wanted to speed up. Cas was making pitiful whines and moans in his ear, and Dean could feel his cock getting fucked in the tight constraints of Cas’s hole.

“Sam!” His hands found their way up to Cas’s hair, and he wrenched the angel around to slam their lips together, his orgasm hitting like a wave. Sam’s hand wriggled between them, pumping Cas’s cock where it rested against Dean’s belly, and almost simultaneously Dean felt Cas and Sam’s cocks throb and spill, one against his stomach, and the other pressed against his own cock.

Three voices, in varying states of overuse, shouted unintelligibly as their limbs locked together.

 _Oh God I hope that’s the last of Gabe’s angel juice,_ Dean thought blearily, before he blacked the fuck out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love-drunk Cas art by [purgatory-jar](https://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/) aaaaaah! Thank you for not being like _WTF_ when I asked for naked!Cas tied to a lamp looking crosseyed and smiling serenely at no one XD XD  
>  Go give her some love she's so frigging talented <3 <3


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